side path, side memories
by teacupz
Summary: rewrite. multi-chapter, HM:IoH. Mark decided to continue his study in a big city; leaving his town and his best friend, Chelsea. But, as long as memories stayed, maybe it would not be too hard to live the days. AU. HIATUS.
1. step one: a new beginning

**Summary:** Mark decided to continue his study in a big city; leaving his town and his best friend, Chelsea. But, as long as memories stayed, maybe it would not be too hard to live the days.

**Disclaimer: **Harvest Moon: Island of Happiness © 2008 by Marvelous Interactive, published by Natsume.

**Notes: **third person POV, AU, OC.

* * *

The universe, however, was huge.

There were million of stars in it, dancing in their own spaces between dream and reality; building magical constellations which would lead them into a parade of mist—and in the end, separating themselves into untouchable gravity: a long silence without any blink and kiss.

And time, however, was mysterious.

It was a circle.

A circle that was supposed to roll in the same direction. A circle that was supposed to return to an exact spot every time it finished its action. A circle that was not a circle.

A circle… that was magical.

Everyone had already known about it; that the magical circle would never stay the same. It kept progressing just like a game, with no one knowing when it would end. Just like the stars, which could never have a better talent than to shine. Because no matter how much they wanted to be as dark as the galaxy, the wind would not carry their wishes, not even a single line.

It was all set from the start.

That stars had to take chances and choose their own paths, strive to conclude what they had started even though there would be thousands of crashes. They should keep on going until they could sit calmly in the finish line, waiting for the flashbacks to reach the deck; as a sign whether the choices that they made earlier were wrong or right.

The journey, however, was long.

Time might play quick when the stars ignored its rhythm. It might also doze off when they were knocking on its door, wishing to be freed from their eternal boredom. In the end, there was nothing else that could be done except to accept commands from the king of the future, the past, and the present.

And, actually, journey was not fully about the time that had passed or wasted. It was about feelings; things that stars would experience in their long walk to the furthest distance.

Happiness, sadness, anger, disappointment, or else. All of them stood in a case.

A case that was, however, precious.

A treasure that no one would ever wish to lose.

No. Not a single star in this universe.

* * *

**-(step 1: a new beginning)-**

"Guess this means you're leaving already, huh?"

A young girl, dressed in yellow, talked in a sad notation. Her lower lip was bitten while a pair of blue diamond locked themselves to a pair of emerald just straight from the place they stood.

The owner of the emeralds—a boy with a blue cap resting on his blond hair—could not help but to mimic the girl's expression. It took a while until his lips turned into a simple curve.

"Cheer up, Chels! It's not like we won't see each other again. I will call you often… or maybe we could send letters!"

Even though his words were not magical, the alphabets sure danced really well and had done a pretty amusing attraction to the girl who now could not resist the urge to giggle. She even gave her friend a weak punch.

"You're thinking about sending letters? Silly! Seriously, Mark, have you forgotten that your handwriting is too beautiful that my eyes feel like burning every time I read it?"

Mark blushed for a moment. "Oh, thanks. My handwriting sure is beautiful that—" his expression changed in a sudden, "wait! Did you just tell me that my handwriting is bad? Oh! You'll regret it, Chels!"

His fingers moved quickly in a rhyme and teleported to the brunette's neck, giving several tickles to the music box so it could create a spoonful melody of laughter that kept on begging for a rest.

"Aha ha ha ha! Stop it!" cried the girl.

"Oh, I would like to. But my fingers couldn't stop just now," said the man, still enjoying his tickling activity.

"Alright… Stop it, you two. Mark, stop tickling Chelsea."

It was the voice of an old lady, the one with the kind expression. She wore a thick coat that matches the color of wood to cover her upper body, while grass colored pants and a pair of green slippers covered the parts below. A scarf—with the same color as her slippers—rolled around her neck, creating a beautiful pattern for the cold resistor and itself.

Despite the fact that she had dressed in warm clothes, her body seemed to shiver a bit. It seemed that the wind had blown too strongly and some of them managed to barge inside through the tiny holes that her scarf missed; building an amount of ice that she could not seem to resist. At the same time, her feet fought really hard to support their friends which they had to carry. If it was not because of the help from her third foot, she could have fallen anytime and sent everyone into a worry.

The woman had stood behind the two youngsters for long. And sure, she had also been watching their silly little fights in silence.

"Come on, Grandma. Just in minutes, I'll be leaving you all soon. I bet Chels will miss my tickles!" Mark explained as his poor target still tried to remove the tickling machine that was circling around her neck.

But, unlike what his words managed to do to the young girl, the older lady did not seem to be impressed at all. She made a little movement around her eyebrows and the man sure had known what to do.

"Fine," said him as he returned his hands to their normal position.

Chelsea, whose throat had been freed from the pain-giver belt, was dealing with her uncontrolled breath. Both of her palms were covering her knees; which were also covered by her dress, a simple yet pretty one to add.

Different flower ornaments—painted in soft orange—spread blurred around it, throwing effects just like an amazing artwork on a sheet. The sleeves could not reach even half the height of the shoulders they were covering, while the body of the dress ended up just a few centimeters below the spot where Chelsea's palms were resting.

It was not like that she loved to wear a dress, anyway. Usually, she would wear short pants instead, since she felt rather uncomfortable when she had to wear things such as skirts.

She would only wear dresses in days that were special.

Like days when she would be able to see couple of birds flying freely in the sky. Or maybe, days when she saw little birds hatched from their eggs, hoping to be able to join their parents one day; watching the years passing by from their homey bed, while feathers started to fill their wings one by one, not knowing how long they had waited for the time they could finally follow in their parents' footsteps.

And one of those special days… was today.

Her friend—no, her best friend, and probably the only one she had—would be leaving. Just as what she thought, she would wear the same dress to commemorate another event that would bring changes to her life.

The thing was… the changes that she was about to face today were different from those that she hoped for.

Departure.

It was not like she had never experienced it before.

She had.

And none of those tragic elements ever failed to make her magic shelter rained; whether painting a hundred dots of drizzle or even creating a huge storm that trembles.

She never wanted to feel like that, again.

But, at this moment, she felt the exact pain; rushing towards her imagination vines, spreading and crushing everything that stood inside, and leaving nothing but a darkened shine.

And the fact that the one who would be leaving was Mark had worsened it.

She never wanted him to leave.

All that she dreamed was to have him on her side forever. She wanted him to sit on her heart for long, being one of the pieces that prevented it to turn into broken puzzles. Together, both of them and her grandmother would live in an endless happiness—a happiness that no one could ever describe.

But, that was not possible, right?

In spite of something that everyone loves to call reality, somehow, she still believed there was still a small chance that everything would be as what she always wished. But, since hearing news about Mark who was going to continue his study in a new city, she knew that reality had declared its win.

He was her best friend. Even more, a figure of an older brother that she never had.

It would never be okay to just let him go, wouldn't it?

Just as tears about to fall from the sparkling sapphires, a shocking melody rolled into her ears, "Hey, Chels! Are you alright?"

Knocked out from her sorrowful thoughts, Chelsea opened her eyes quickly. A single shook followed and just when she was about to answer, Mark jumped.

"Oh, no! Grandma! Chels seems so pale! Tell me it isn't because of the tickles!" said Mark whose finger was pointing at his pale-looking friend. His feet were jumping in odd beats as if they were stepping on a burning heat.

The gray haired lady smiled. "Well… You do know that tickles can bring bad effects, don't you?"

"Wait! Wait! I… I didn't do it!" His gestures were weirder than ever. "It was just a tickle, er… two tickles! Okay, a lot of tickles. But, think of it, I had tickled her for many times and it couldn't be possible that her face becomes pale because of the tickles, right? I mean, if it was because of the tickles, her face would turn pale in a long time ago and—"

"I'm fine, silly!"

Chelsea shouted, half-giggling. Her finger was knocking her windows, absorbing all of the sadness liquid that spun there. After a few moments, she coughed her hand and continued, "But, the tickles did drain my stamina. I think I need a recharge."

The blond man was relieved and confused at the same time, an eyebrow stood taller than the other one. "What are you talking about? What is this recharge about?"

"Well…" the girl smiled as she took a few steps to the left, arms crossed, "I don't know. Maybe something like grandma's stew, a bar of chocolate… or, perhaps, an apology."

After saying that, she stopped moving as if her shoes had touched a land of sticky mud. Her hair danced with the wind; a reflection of million singing threads, manifestation of the feeling that you got when you saw a pretty moondrop in its vase.

She waited for a few seconds and decided to repeat her request, "Hmm… I expect an apology just now."

"I pick grandma's stew!" Mark exclaimed, lifting one of his arms into an empty space—his palm was covered in glove so the breeze could not stick its nose there.

"Grandma, is it fine for you to cook her a bowl of stew later? Pleaseee…" the blond man gazed innocently to the grandmother, hoping that a 'yes' would take part in her next audio letter. Chelsea, on the other side, was not expecting the answer and seemed to be completely lost in shock.

"Ho ho ho, I don't think that is what Chelsea means, Mark."

The brown-coated woman finally spoke, too thrilled after seeing the youngsters' hilarious talk which made her always consider them as her favorite comedy actors. And so, she continued, "Something saddens her, Mark. And, I think this something is a someone instead. You do know who is this someone, don't you?"

The blue cap's owner finally understood after a spark of lightning hit him. His hand reached for his friend's shoulder as he spoke, "I'm sorry, Chels. I promise I won't overdo anything again, especially tickling."

Chelsea could not help but to laugh, arms crossed around her belly. Her tears also exploded in the moment, might be a sort of complication that blurted out because of laughing in a high frequency.

But, actually, she was crying.

Just as he said that, she suddenly remembered one of Mark's statements back there: the one about her that would miss his tickles.

Well, Mark might seem to be overconfident; but, actually, he had always been that kind of person. Then again, his statement was true, after all.

She would definitely miss his tickles, miss his overconfidence, miss the smell of his hair—

Miss him.

And after laughing for a few seconds, while secretly thinking about those things, she answered his apology, "It's okay, Mark. It's just tickles. Well, it's annoying sometimes but it won't kill me, right?"

Mark sighed in relief. "So, you're fine now?"

"Sure. Better than ever," said the brunette as she nodded.

And right over there, she slipped her tongue, creating a big mistake that people love to call lie—or as what she likes to think: a little white lie.

She knew that it was not a good thing to do, but her mind kept asking her to. And so, she would repeat the same mistake, "Just don't worry about me. I'm fine. It's not like I can't handle myself—"

And right there, she stopped.

Right when she realized a mix of sad and disappointed look came from an old woman. Right when her eyes turned cold as if they were rotten. Right when an uneasy feeling visited without bringing a lantern.

Right over there.

When she finally understood, that maybe, just maybe, the pain that had been burdening her could be reduced by telling the truth.

"…Don't go."

Chelsea stared at the taller man while tears started to paint her face.

"…Don't ever go."

Mark was speechless by her words. He sighed and gazed at the morning sky, lost in thoughts for a moment before he reached for the young lady.

"Chels, I wish I could stay. But… I have to go. I need to continue my study so that I can reach my dream."

The girl sobbed even worse than before. There was a pause until she let part of her feelings to soar.

"…Then, ca-can I, we, at least… be… a pa-part… of your dream…?"

Mark was shocked by her question. He never thought that Chelsea would ask him to stay. All that he ever knew was that Chelsea is a strong and caring girl; just the way her grandmother was, just like a replica of an unbreakable statue that stood beyond massive dust.

Who would ever think that a girl like her was completely fragile in the inside?

Whoever those persons, Mark was not one of them. Instead, he was one of the groups that would just stare, or maybe, care to say some unthinkable words…?

"Chels… I…"

And she hugged him.

Hugged him so tightly as if she tried to trap him in the binding circle forever, silently wishing while desperately yelling inside the barrier, and felt comfortable after the uncontrolled feelings distinguished when a warm glove started to pat her.

The owner of the red glove, who was still in shock because of the hug, lowered his head and then whispered in a calm symphony, "Chels, you and Grandma 'are' a part of my dream. Even the biggest one."

And the thing that came out from the young lady was a look of disbelief.

"Come here, Chels," he continued, dragging his friend a few steps to the west; to the portal between the road and the ocean that was vast. After reaching the spot, they sat and let themselves to have a little chat.

"See the sky up there?" asked the boy, his finger moved as if it was pulled by a magnetic source somewhere between the clouds.

Chelsea stared at the amusing scenery and then replied with a nod, though the person that was holding her hand did not see it and kept continuing his speech—or maybe, questions.

"Do you know the name of the cloud over there?"

It was a cloud somewhere above the sea that he pointed at, the one that was shaped like a rabbit with three foot—one was longer than the other two—and a tail that connected to the other clouds, forming a flawless land. Then again, its ears were pointy and perfect, ready to listen to the longest complain.

And after looking at the hare, whose fur was white with a bit gray cottons stuck around its stomach, the lady beside him answered in an unsure tone, "…Mi-Miss Bunny?"

"Hmm… So, is this the first time you saw Miss Bunny?"

Another nod from the brunette.

The blond boy smiled and then talked with the same notation as his last three lines, "Do you think you can see her again?"

"…Si-silly! W-why do you keep asking me… these things? I… I don't get it," she cried in an emphasis.

Mark gave her a mysterious smile. "Just answer it."

Not knowing what her friend was up to, she looked at the yellow garden that slept over her dress and decided to give him his request.

"…I don't know."

The male youngster stared at an empty space as if he was reading the lady's quote that played around there. Then, he let go a spark of enthusiasm into the air; his cap sat still on its favorite chair.

"Do you know how the clouds are formed?"

Just as he asked that, Chelsea felt that there was a huge stone that hits her thinkable throne. She had no idea what was behind all of the questions that Mark gave to her. Her mind could hardly reach for even the shortest answer. But, before she was able to send the signal, his letters had already interrupted.

"As you know, the sun shines everyday. And by shining, it radiates its heat, evaporating parts of the ocean," his head tilted a bit, eyes framed at the white cottons, "these water then change into steam particles and rise to the sky."

The girl portrayed his explanations in her mind as he maintained his progress, "When they reach a certain level of height, they will return into liquid form due the temperature around, which indeed, is cold. After that, each and every of them will gather as a group and form a cloud, or clouds. Then, they will travel around the world, travel anywhere the wind blows them to."

"…It… It must be nice," Chelsea commented, a waterfall appeared on her face, "living freely… while having people that you love around…"

"But, Chels, they can't live like that forever," the green eyed man cut, not giving any sign of rudeness. "Along with their travel, they will meet a lot of gas from the land below. All of those gases will join them, creating heavy amounts for them to lift."

He petrified for a while, letting the birds' chirps painted the peaceful scene. Then, he looked at his friend with a little guilty grin. "Once they can't carry themselves anymore, they will fall to the ground, creating a phenomenon that we always know as rain."

"…So… they died?" asked the wood haired lady with slight fear and sympathy.

"Of course not!" Mark shouted and patted her shoulder.

"Don't you worry, Chels! Some of them will fall into the river and the stream will take them back to the ocean. And, once the rain ends and the sun takes back its spotlight, the same events will occur again. It's a never ending cycle," he added.

"…U-umm… So, that means… I can meet Miss Bunny again?"

"True," the smart man answered as he poked the innocent girl's back softly.

The victim of his action felt the pain and was about to do some kind of revenge; although ended up aborting the plan, which happened to be her favorite style to complain. It was, once again, because of the guy's unstoppable lines.

"Oh! But, remember this, Chels. You might not recognize her cause she will definitely have a new appearance. It's almost impossible that she and her friends can form the exact same shape of a hare again, isn't it?"

He then sighed heavily. "Our lives are indeed the same as them. Not just clouds, but everything. Every single thing in this world will face the same path: the path that will lead us into unfinished endings."

Both of his jewels closed, a pair of black boots finally could give the land a hold, and part of his blond hair—which failed to get a space inside the sea-colored cap—were running in mellow chords.

"And that's why… even if we are separated for now, we will meet again someday; whether we have changed or not."

Chelsea stared at him. Something was troubling her.

"…U-umm, Mark… If… u-umm… Suppose you have changed, ho-how will I recognize you?"

"You will, Chels." He removed the curtains that blocked his view. "Even when you don't know that it's me, you can feel it."

He turned and let the pale blue sky—with unstable diamonds covering its body—took part in his favorite clarify.

"It's the amazing mystery of memories."

_Hmph._

In moment like this, Chelsea supposed to feel like he was getting further; that it would be almost impossible for her to see the same figure she used to see back when both of them were just two little children.

But, what she felt was the opposite, nothing like a chain or an ember. It was more of a feeling… that he would always be on her side, being her guide.

And she did not have to feel alone anymore.

…At least, not for now.

"You should go, Mark. You know about a lot of stuff: clouds, rain, and all. I think a silly smart guy like you should really keep studying. So, I support you."

And it was a smile that Mark shared after hearing her compliments.

"Anyway," the boy talked again; his hands—erm, red gloves—were sunk in the pocket of his jacket, "do you really think I will change?"

The young lady raised her eyebrow.

"Oh, Come on, Chels! I mean, I'm already smart. Why do I have to change if I already got this bright mind? And, just to add, I'm not only smart but also kind, friendly, and handso—"

NOOOOOOT! NOOOOOOT!

"The ship! You better hurry up, Mark!" Chelsea stood from the place she sat and Mark followed with a tiny sweatdrop.

It took only seconds until he realized something was odd.

"Wait! Where's my bag?" he touched his back and could not find his rucksack. "My bag! My bag! Where is my backpack? No… No! Don't tell me that I left it at home. There isn't enough time to get the bag. Oh, nooo!"

"I have your bag, Mark!" the grandmother shouted. Being unable to talk to anyone in a long moment seemed to turn her voice a bit burned; although it was actually because of the dryness level of her throat.

"Oh, thank you so much!" The teen ran in panic. "I can't believe I forgot that you have my bag, Grandma!" he commented, quickly wearing the tiny green case where he kept his belongings.

Grandmother chuckled, "Ho ho ho, Mark… When you're there, you will not have anyone to remind you about things again. Be careful and memorize things more carefully, alright?"

"Okay, Grandma! You take care of yourself, too," he exclaimed happily and turned to Chelsea.

"Hey, Chels…"

And there was an awkward silence.

A little moment that was surrounded by mystical attendance. A history in time when everyone just stopped from building sentences.

It was.

Until the man started a conversation, removing the rare situation; bringing back the world into an unsteady balance.

"Chels… It's hard to say this but I'm going now. Take care of yourself, okay?"

The little lass widened her lips and that was all.

As the boy ran and reached for the ship's entrance, as he waved his hand as a final goodbye, and as she closed her eyes and felt a twist of wind tickled her neck…

She knew that it was already an end.

End for a life where the three of them could knit unlimited threads into sweaters that would protect them from scratches. End for a life where they could celebrate the sacrifice of fire over the candles. End for a life with rushing happiness.

End for a life,

…which would open new days without tickles.

* * *

_A little blink came from the furthest cosmic._

_A little smile for the abandoned stick._

_Jump into the hole, a comet just passes by,_

_though the sun had stolen it into the sky._

_But, a glimpse of memory had made you blushed in shy._

_Knowing… that there will never be a goodbye._

* * *

**Author's notes:**

It has been a long time since I deleted this fic and I've been thinking to rewrite it like from months ago. And now, I have finally finished the first chapter rewrite! Yeah! XD -spread colorful papers- I would like to thanks _livina-senpai_ (LvNa-cHaN), _april_ (chocobo86), and _alice_ (Alice Love Cake) that had reviewed the deleted version of this fic. I can't make it without all of you, guys! Thanks so much for the support. :') I hope you can enjoy the rewrite. Some sort of 'sorry for deleting the fic', maybe? -smashed with a shovel-

English is actually not my first language and I had quite hard time to write this story since I had serious grammar and vocabulary issues. And I got help for some vocabularies from my friends and Microsoft Word did correct my grammar a few times. Thanks for helping! I hope I can keep improving my English by time.

Forgive me for lots of weirdness and mistakes here. It'd great to point me if you stumbled into them. :D And is the beginning a bit… odd? I don't know why did I end up writing something about stars. -_- As for the part about how clouds formed, I wrote things that I remembered from what I learned in seventh grade Geography -two to three years ago-. It's been a long time, so please correct me if there were mistakes. :)

Oh, in case you are wondering, I don't know how exactly a ship sounded like. I asked my brother and he said it was something like 'noot'. I typed Mark's quote after I typed the ship's sound. And I suddenly realized that it also could mean something like 'when Mark about to say that he was handsome, the ship could not agree'. lol. XD What a funny coincidence! -slapped-

About the OC, it is Chelsea's grandma. Well, she did not talk a lot but I guess since she was in the scene, I need to put notes that my story contained an OC which is her. -so unimportant- I don't know if she is going to be an important role here or not but maybe I will put her again in some of the next chapters. :) Yeah, I should.

Weird characterization, odd changes of emotions, grammar mistakes, poor vocabularies, etc.? Just tell me in the review. :) I hope I can do my best to edit and fix them. And I also hope I can keep on updating this story. Thanks for reading! Wish good luck for you all! _edited. thanks for the comments._


	2. step two: tea party

**Summary:** It was Mark's first experience being on a ship. And a little accident brought him back to a tea party that he had once forgotten.

**Disclaimer: **Harvest Moon: Island of Happiness © 2008 published by Natsume

**Notes: **third person POV, AU, OC (a little appearance of Grandma, you see. :P)

* * *

**-(step 2: tea party)-**

_Click._

The clicking sound of door suddenly burst into the silent corridor—a corridor with carved woods lining up at the parts below, hugging each other tightly so they could stay strong when a load of pressure gave them a blow.

And when someone mentioned about a door, that person usually would mention about a room as well.

In this case, it was one mysterious room that the door tried to hide and protect. It was a room with unlimited treasure inside—one of the reasons why the wooden gate had to defend it with its best strength.

Unfortunately, once again, it failed to protect the golden chamber from outsiders.

A boy, with a pair of red gloves covering his hands, had already tickled its weakest spot. It was truly a shame, that the door had to let the boy entered the room. And now, after its attempt to push back the treasure hunter did not bring any sign of victory, the poor guardian had nothing to do but to scream in misery.

"Ah! Watching the sea was really fun!" the boy—that we had all known as Mark—exclaimed in an exciting tone.

He looked around the room for a while, as the activity had magically sent beautiful glows into his eyes.

_Ah… What a wonderful room_, he thought.

Even though it said that the boat offered one of the classiest rooms on deck, the room was not that classy, actually.

But, the facilities they offered were enough to make you feel like stuffed in a magical shed; as fresh and relaxing as the air that filled the room itself.

He took a deep breath; draining the unlucky element into his lungs. That way, they would be able to give him a breeze of energy to replace all the junks.

After that, he stared at the furniture. It might not be an important thing to do. But, for Mark, it was important to take a look at your room companions. After all, those stuffs were the only things that would give him thousand of hugs while he traveled across the sea. And there were not lots of entertainment that he could get besides enjoying the beauty of the blue dominating nature on his short trip. So, it was not a bad idea to give them a short 'hello', was it?

"Hmm… Let's see," the young man said, both lens observing the room.

There was a bed at the corner side—its white body covered by a blanket with the color of tide. It was not necessary to check it more carefully. He would visit the little guy sooner or later, anyway.

At the center of the room, there was a table. It was made of wood and covered by a blue tablecloth. A teapot and a pair of cups were standing right on it, seemed to have a little chat about the last time a tea party was held.

A dresser, also made of wood, stood just beside the bed. Above from the dresser was a little lamp that sure would be useful to bring some light, though the young man currently had no intention to make darkness fought the glowing knight. It was still noon—almost evening, actually—and the sun was still pouring its bright sparkles, so they could barge into the room by making the window their entrance. It would be a waste to turn on the lamp on such condition.

Observation was over. Now, Mark sure that the furniture in his room would make him felt quite content—pretty content, actually. He could not imagine anything finer than this. And this was his first experience being on a ship! That way, he would not have any other ship's facilities to compare, would he? In short, he was pretty glad that all of the facilities were wonderful!

But, from all of them, the one that stole his attention the most was the bed.

Yeah. The resting box had always been the best choice if you felt tired after staring at the seaside.

One more thing that made the bed had one extra advantage: Mark was one of those people that energy was drained by the hypnotizing sea, the day-appearing star, and the playful wind. And he seemed to realize those things. So, he stretched his body, moved a bit, and said, "Humm… I feel a little tired, and my back is a bit hurt. Well, I'm not sleepy but laying down a bit isn't a bad thing to do, right?"

So then, the teen closed the wood gate and gave the floor a few stomps. It took a while until he finally reached the fluffy rectangle and rested his bag around the pillows.

"What should I do next? Maybe there's something I can do in here," Mark mumbled, throwing himself onto the rectangular trampoline. An unpainted canvas up there became the only thing that filled his wide field of green.

He rested for a few minutes, doing nothing but staring at the thing that he thought as boring—the white ceiling. His back was better but his mood was somewhat troubled.

"Oh! There's nothing to do in this room! So annoying! It's a good room but… why do I have to feel so bored when I'm here?" he yelled as his arms played the role of drum sticks; where the poor bed had to be the box which must taste their tricks.

_Shrug._

"Huh?"

The boy quickly jumped when an awkward sound rang. It took only seconds until a stream of panic sang.

"Oh, no! My bad! I mean, my bag! All of my stuffs fell onto the floor!"

The tragedy had somehow reminded Mark of his tea parties with Chelsea and Grandma, which they used to have. He could not believe that he did the same mistake, over and over. It was hard for him to remain quiet, even in a silent kind of event like tea party. Because of that, lots of things—cups, teapot, whatever worth to be broken—often fell to the floor along with his unstoppable moves. And the thing that just happened was not so different from those tea parties.

Yeah. The floor was now filled with drops that came from his green fabric-made teapot; creating an 'after disaster-like' scene which seemed like million of dots.

He gazed over the mess for a moment until he finally sighed in a finer note.

"Phew… Glad nothing was broken."

The boy now felt less terrible than before. Good thing that the stuffs that fell were not as fragile as those cups in tea parties! Ah, thinking about that, he became a bit unsure to move any nearer to the wood table, which hold cups, at the room's center.

That was why he just took a little trip around the scattered area and spoke, "Seems like we need to do a little 'cleaning' job here."

So, the teen started to pick up his stuffs and put them back into the bag. If only he had an opportunity to have one of his wishes fulfilled, he might turn his bag into a vacuum cleaner, so it could absorb all of his belongings faster.

But, that could not be possible, right?

And because of the fact, he did the activity manually, complaining a bit while sighing in a brave melody, "Garsh… This sure is hard. I wish Grandma and Chels are here."

He froze and then shook his head, "No! Don't think about that, Mark! You can't always rely at others, can you? This must be some kind of test so you can finally clean your own mess. Yeah, this must be my fate! Just see, I will master this 'cleaning' thing in my first try! Huahahahaha!"

Spending time to laugh, the boy stopped when he realized something, "Oh, yeah! I better get started!"

Mark coughed his hand and then went to grab his belongings, starting from the nearest ones.

There were some books with different titles: 'All About Weather', 'Nature I: Sea', and many others—most told about earth, some about health, and a journal in case he needed to write something. Of course, there were also pencils and ballpoints. If he did not bring them, how could he write in his journal?

Not far away from there, was a flashlight. The shine producer sat silently, creating beautiful scenery along with some spare batteries. There were also some medicines; truly perfect to handle unexpected injuries. Mark was quite good on healing wounds as long as they were not critical. Great thing he learned that from the books about medical.

In case for emergency, Mark also brought two chocolate bars. Erm, were they really that important to bring? Talking belly was an emergency to him, perhaps.

Finally, several clothes were the furthest in distance. In the group, there were three white T-shirts, a blue overall, and a yellow raincoat—even though he was good at observing the nature, weather was still and would always be unpredictable, right? There were also some other clothes. They were hidden under the three earlier elements, and Mark was too lazy to check each and every of them, so he just put them in his bag instantly.

Mark kept on putting all of those stuffs inside their home, the place they supposed to be. After finished with the exhausting activity, he stretched his arms, heart jumped in a merry.

"Phew… I think that's all," a smile jumped onto his face, "hmm, I already said that I'll master this in my first try. Great job, Mark."

After saying that, his foot moved closer to the bed. For the youngster, there was nothing better but to rest after completing your tasks. But, oddly, some kind of wind blew and made him faced a completely different direction.

"Wait, there's still something on the floor," he said as he took the thing from the cold floor, sending it into a warmer place—his gloves.

It was a scarf.

"Scarf…"

Mark was holding the scarf that somehow recovered his memories. It was soft and as red as strawberries—a group of fruit that usually hid themselves into green bushes, filling their faces with blushes, and slowly illuminating the world, so the joy of spring could execute all of the thirst.

Yeah. It was a scarf.

The one that he received in a tea party.

* * *

.

.

.

_"Grandma! Chels! Why are we having a tea party here—and now?"_

_A little girl—she was on her eighth—smiled to the boy that sat beside her. She wore a sweet yellow dress, which had a little blend of white around its ears and head. It could not be denied that the threads had done a pretty amusing job to turn themselves into such wonderful creation for young girls to wear. Extra point for the pattern of teddy bears. Wonder if they were searching for honey there… If they were, then the third spectrum had successfully fooled them!_

"_It's almost spring, Mark! Look! Some leaves already appeared on Mister Tree's branch!" the girl explained happily, finger pointing to a tree._

_The boy, who seemed a bit uncomfortable, poured a little oil around his tongue, just like what he liked to do. He sighed a bit and burst out with complains._

"_But, I don't want to have a tea party, Chels! Today is Sunday! You know that I mostly spent Sundays with some reading. And even though it's almost spring, it's still winter! I'm still feeling a bit chilly here! It's not good to have a tea party when the air is cold!"_

_And a scarf suddenly covered his neck._

"_Chels…? What is this?"_

"_It's for you," the girl said as her hands still trying to round the scarf around the boy's neck. "Silly! Can't believe you forgot your birthday again."_

_Mark was lost of words._

_His birthday…_

_He was completely forgot._

_All that he ever remembered was reading and reading._

_Somehow, he felt a bit ashamed because of being too concentrated on his hobby that he forgot one of the most important events in his life._

_And the scarf…_

_It was a birthday present._

_It had been quite a long time since he received one. And today, he received that precious thing again._

_And he felt really warm—not only because of the scarf but also because of the feeling that was given into it._

_While those thoughts flew in the bookworm's head, Chelsea had perfectly introduced the scarf to its new village. She waited for the sound of bell, which would cling in her mind, so she could finally speak again, "Grandma and I made this for you. Well, actually, Grandma made the scarf. But, I did contribute by sewing some words at the backside of the scarf."_

_Despite the fact that the girl had explained pretty carefully, the boy was still looking at the gift; not really listening to what his friend said. But, he did react and let his lips to act._

"_Thanks, Chels, you remembered my birthday," he announced with thousand of flowers blooming in his chest, "I can't be happier and—"_

"_What happened to your hands?" Mark grabbed his friend's hands, which made another topic carried by his sentences. Both of Chelsea's palms were covered with plaster! Mark's emeralds focused themselves on the healing clothes, blinked a bit, turned to their normal spot, and finally caught a little girl in their frame._

_Chelsea explained, smiling, "Well… It was just some accidents with needles that happened when I sew on the scarf. It's okay, Mark. I'm fine."_

"_I do remember you cry all night, Chelsea."_

_Finally, the oldest person that took part in the tea party spoke. As usual, her charming voice could hardly make her granddaughter sad, even if she meant to tease or drive her mad. Although, the glowing alphabets did push a ton of worries into the boy who was wearing a hat._

"_Oh, Chels! Are you sure everything's fine?" he asked, curtains sliding so now people could easily view his emeralds._

"_Um… it's okay, silly. I did cry but I'm fine, Mark!"_

_The lass tilted her head and painted her face with the curve of miracle—the one that had always made everyone felt better. Seeing her with it felt like having a rainbow inside your spinning globe._

_Not long after that, the grandmother reached the table where the kids were, as she spoke, "Ho ho ho. She is all right, Mark. Even though she went a bit teary, she kept on sewing until the scarf is done."_

"_Oh! Chels!" Mark felt guilty after hearing Grandma's explanations. He pressed his lower lip with his front tooth and then turned to his friend, "I love the gift. But, you don't have to push yourself like that, you know!"_

_And the three of them smiled._

"_Now while those beautiful smiles still hanging on your faces, we better celebrate with tea," Grandma said. Her right hand was holding a teapot while the other stood on the table, made it easier for her to stand—it was just too bad that her foot had not been working as good as the first time they met the land._

_On the flat wood, three teacups were already blinking, a signal that told they were ready to greet their new friends. Reaching their sign, the old lady poured the tea to each and every of them until they were full and ready to be drunk._

_You could see a waterfall sprang right above the half-ball shaped porcelain. The hot water slide out from the teapot, hit the cup's bottom as if they were beginning a riot, and created hundred of beautiful ripples in the end of the plot._

Interesting_, Mark thought as he portrayed the view in front of him. It was a bit odd remembering he was so concerned about Chelsea on the last minutes._

_And Grandma had finished filling all the empty cups—ah, it was good to know that they had friends now! Wish that none of the attendants would drink them too quickly. That way, the cups and the tea could spend a longer time together!_

_The young lad looked at his cup passionately. It was filled with black tea—it was brown in color, a little dark, perhaps. And also a little odd, maybe… Because, he remembered they wore a brighter coat before they reached the pool of white._

_What made them change their color? Was that some kind of task that they need to complete to join the community? Or was it a kind of effect that would only appear when they united in serenity?_

_Anyway, the curious brain had leveled up a little, that the owner was now looking at the top part where the tea did not settle._

Interesting_, he thought, for the second time. A group of almost invisible thing was flowing like a river. But, even though they looked alike, those things were different from streams of water. They flowed from the lower part to the higher; the opposite way of how a river works, and that just might be one of the reasons of why scientists gave them a separation._

_Or maybe, just maybe, they were… um, spirits? Well, um, no. They were part of the tea that had changed into steam due the high temperature._

_But, Mark did not know about those things—even though he read a lot of books and always went to school, he had not learned about that yet! So, because of the unlimited curiosity, he started to play his hand over the element of mystery._

"_Mark! What are you doing?" Chelsea gave him a confused look._

"_Why don't you drink your tea? Grandma's tea is the best, you know!" she continued, then sipped her tea. If people observed carefully, you could find that her teacup was almost empty, while Mark's cup was still full, which kind of made her envy._

"_No! I was just wondering what were these! Maybe if I separate them!" the boy said in a hurry, moved his hand around the steam, and—_

Prang!

"_Whoopsy?"_

"_Not again, Mark!" Grandma said, with a little painful essence. She ran to the place where the cup fell, not forgetting to put two plates of sandwich which were travelling with her hands on the table, so there would not be neither new victims nor an extra trouble._

_The tea scattered all over the ground, rubbing the mighty soil to find a new house. It was so poor a tea! Little Chelsea would want to drink it if only it had not evolved into a formless liquid… It was just too bad._

_And shared the same fortune, the cup… was injured badly._

_Now, it was hard to tell whether the thing was a cup or just pieces of abstract puzzles. And it sure saddened the old lady!_

"_Oh, Mark… You need some help with your table manners. I cannot believe you broke things again. When I woke up this morning, there were three cups and seven broken cups on the cupboard. Now, we have only two unbroken cups. Eight cups, three plates, and a teapot! They were the things that you broke, Mark."_

_After saying that, she cleared all the mess and put the ex-cup on the tableside where she sat—so the children could not reach them. She then comforted herself on a chair and shook her head._

_Haaah…_

_It had been a routine for Mark to break stuffs; everywhere, every events, …everything. It was like… she could expect what would happen when she attended an event with the two young kids._

_Yeah. She knew that there would be this kind of tragedy. And she also knew another thing; that at this moment, Chelsea would probably put her palm on hers, asking her for a link._

"_Grandma… I'm sorry for this." Their eyes met as the granddaughter continued, "You won't throw Mister Cupsy away, will you?"_

"_No. Of course not, Chelsea."_

_And her answer had sent Chelsea a soft breeze. The lass' hands were now levitating on the air as her foot randomly fought with the gravity, which pulled herself to the old lady._

_As the counting circle kept rotating with its unchangeable agility, they spent their moment hugging each other tightly._

_Until, a tiny and tender snow fell onto the soft brown hair of the young lady._

"_It's snowing, Grandma!" she jumped and ran all around, waiting for the cold swan's feather to reach her as they traveled down._

_Grandma shook her head. She walked to reach her granddaughter and rubbed the flakes that settled on her brain shelter, "Let us go inside, Chelsea. You do not want to catch a cold, do you?"_

"_Umm… Okay."_

_After that, the grandmother collected all of the porcelain pieces and spoke, "You better go inside too, Mark."_

_And instead of the boy, it was the wind that answered her logical advice._

"_Mark?"_

_The boy was not there._

_Mark was not there._

_For a moment, the old lady's heart was trembling and fear began to crunch the white-dominated setting; its effect could be spotted easily—that the place felt different as if it had been overgrown by tall trees and their thick leaves, which made all the winter sun's attacks missed._

_But, glad that she did not need to sit in the silent cage for long. Because, a lightning of innocence suddenly calmed her with a stronger power than her favorite classic songs._

"_Grandmaaa!"_

"_Mark!" said the old lady, shocked and happy at the same time._

_Oh, glad that the time did not plan anything bad to them. And at this teary moment, if only she could, Grandma would hug the lad, and said 'there was no one to blame'. And the nice day sure would be closed with a happy ending._

_Once again, if she could._

_But, she could not._

_The dice-player was not on her side. This time, she could not become the first to express her feelings. But, it was the boy; who was still running until he decided to show something._

"_Look! Look, Grandma!"_

_A folded newspaper was resting on his hand._

_It shaped like a cube that missed one of its sides, and no one knew what it could do until Mark explained, giving his words a fast ride._

"_Look! I made my own teacup! Well, it shaped a little different cause I don't understand how to make an actual teacup, but it works! I'll show you!"_

"_Wa-wait, Mark…"_

_The grandmother tried to stop him but she could not. So, she just watched the lad walked to the table and grabbed a teapot._

"_Be careful, Mark—"_

_She had tried to warn him. But, it was too late._

_The blond kid had given another amazing contribution to the floor and the table. Smoothly, the present arrived at the two lucky—or unlucky, perhaps—elements. It was a 'well-done' for Mark who had already raised his hand to hold the teapot and poured the tasty drink into his handmade cube, which he considered as a teacup. The bad news: he forgot to whisper the word 'careful' to one of his upper moving crews._

_Yeah. Once again, he failed to prove that he could attend a tea party without leaving any unwanted trace, which sometimes burned the old lady's face._

"_Oh… No… I-I… Why? My teacup is all wet… It looks like it's going to melt. Oh! Come on! It's snowing! How can you melt at this kind of situation? Ho-how can this happen?" the young boy could say nothing except the fragments of disbelief._

_After a few moments, he realized that he could do nothing about it, and turned to the person who was standing in front of him._

"_Grandma… I… I don't know that this will happen. I'm sorry. It should've worked but… I don't understand—"_

_And Grandma put her finger at his lips._

_Then, she smiled._

"_You do not need to understand all of those things, Mark. Not now."_

_Mark was confused and quickly replied, "But… I can't… I need to. If I don't, how can we get a new teacup?"_

_And by adding a little brightness, slowly, Grandma whispered, "Teacup is important, Mark. But, which one do you think is the most important; being able to drink a tea, or having a teacup without anything to pour into?"_

"_What's that suppose to mean?"_

_Another curiosity flew from the young boy and the grandmother knew what to do—or say._

"_Ho ho ho, do not you hear what I said earlier? You are not a good listener, are you, young man?" she laughed a bit, stared at the blond kid for a moment, and continued. _

"_You do not need to understand all of those things, Mark. Not now."_

.

.

.

* * *

"Garsh… G-grandma, Chels…"

Mark was standing without any execution was put on him, tears building although they were not big enough to form a pool to swim. While his head was filled with dancing emotions, he whispered softly that his voice was very hard to hear.

"_I won't forget the love and the wonderful memories._"

.

.

.

In this wide world, there was a ship, sailing in a certain blue coordinate.

It was racing with the waves and talking with a sudden rain—a rain that no one would expect, because it lived at the flipped side of facts; that it was brought by dark clouds, which were pouring their tears onto the deck.

The ship was painted in a nice white—a perfect color for the lovely bride that had engaged itself to the groom in blue suit; hoping that time would let them had their ceremony where they could once again meet.

The corridors of the ship were carved with woods, and it had plenty of classy and nice rooms.

And in one of those rooms, there was a boy.

His hair was blond, while his cap was dominant blue. His outfit was nice because it was perfectly sewed. With an orange jacket, his palms covered with red gloves. His boots were plain but his mind was a beautiful rose.

And unlike usual, his mouth was closed… as he forced his lens to face the window.

A window…

Rectangular glasses that had been uniting for years, was now battling with drips of liquid; trying their best to turn the life channel on without the company of cold spirit.

Beyond the visible—though sometimes invisible—portal, the boy could see how the rain dropped from its burning castle. Funny… The enormous building used to be white, but now turned into gray, and it would take a while until all of its bricks were blown away.

Well, some people who were in love with fairy tales might think that was not possible.

But, in this case, it was.

Because, the wind that blew the strong gates of red was not weak or came from lungs that were bad. It was a wind that was stronger than the wolf's breath.

But, whatever happened out there, Mark would not know.

His mind was somewhere else.

Somewhere between the young ripples that flowed on the black streams,

…he could see two figures that he missed, even in dreams.

From the blurry view, he turned to the red scarf, which he was holding. Focusing his eyes at the words that were carved there, he thought some things in his mind.

_One day, Grandma, Chels… I will be back, with all of the things that I wanted to show to you two. And it'll be nice if we can live together again, working together to pursue… our dreams._

And the thoughts carried away by the wind… when the boy's smile was finally in.

They flew around the stormy sea, somewhere far… but would never be.

But, could the hope, even if it was made of clarity, survive from the harsh and unpredictable wind?

Because, a lightning had just struck the ship, and perhaps,

…tearing away the youngster's dream.

.

.

.

* * *

_Couple of things that made you the fairest_

_I would not look without feeling careless._

_Couple of lights that stormed on your shoulders_

_How much I hated those priceless feathers!_

_Couple of things that crawled on your lips_

_Oh, it would just change me into another piece_

_…of blindness that I could not resist._

_Couple of things that I wanted to see,_

_Perhaps were no longer a couple of things._

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Yaa~haa! Finally finished with the second chapter! ;) Sorry for the late update. I've finished most of the parts months ago but stuck with the tea party part. It was kinda hard to think about what will Mark do to fix his mistake. But I kinda like it that way. Heh.

Oh, about Grandma's words about teacup and tea… I don't write what the meaning is and will let you guys with your own interpretations! ^^ Mark has his own and I think I have fun by not telling what his interpretation is. And I think I had turned into a very narcissistic person cause of writin' too much about 'tea'. Heh. XP

Thanks for everyone that had read and even given any kind of appreciations to this fic! Thank you! You guys really gave me the biggest support and spirit to continue this story. Hope I can do my best to update. Thank you, once again. (for _asa_, thanks for the comment! :') Ah! I think I missed that idea! But, to think of it again, I just don't feel Mark's the kind that shows his affection with action, except tickles. Actually, that's just an alibi cause I don't feel like changing the scene. :P -slapped-)

Reviews are really welcome! ;) Just lemme know if there's anything odd from the story or about any grammar mistakes (like what I said, I'm not good at English -sobs-). Heh. Thank you!


	3. step three: another fine morning?

**Summary:** It was another fine morning people could have today. Even for Mark and Chelsea? Erm, hopefully…

**Disclaimer: **Harvest Moon: Island of Happiness © 2008 published by Natsume

**Notes: **third person POV, AU

* * *

**-(step 3: another fine morning?)-**

It was another fine morning people could have today.

The sun was sitting on its chair at the middle of the sky, while its ray stepped on the people who passed by. On these first days of spring, it seemed that the mighty king of the day turned out to be a little shy. Usually, it would share its flaming words in a bridge of chatters. But, today, it spoke as tiny as glitters. So, it was a perfect day to have a stroll with your favorite slippers!

Surrounding the sun, was the sky, which wore a soft blue outfit. If you observed carefully, the color was actually a bit darker at the edges; and it got brighter as the journey of your crystals reached the state, where the melting butter would usually push them with its stunning blade.

Yeah. Thanks to the sun, now the sky was pretty rich in contrast.

The clouds, well, they were just arrived. If you thought that they were late, you just made a little mistake. Because, unlike the mighty sun, they did not have any schedule at all!

The separated star—or simply, the sun—was raised in discipline, so it could manage its tasks without caring about scars, which blended into its skin. Without the sun, the Earth could have fallen into an endless pain; thousand of pities would be shot to the grasses that could not differ drizzle and rain; and who would have given the sky unlimited choice of paint?

Those were some important duties that could not be delayed.

But, even though they had no busy chores to do like the sun, the clouds also had important tasks to complete, only their style of work let them to relax a bit. And you would not know when their work would be finished!

But, so far, they did a pretty great job on decorating the sky; giving birds and birdies mood to fly—chirping and tweeting playfully as they ran above the ocean swiftly.

And the sound of happiness that those beautiful feathers gave mixed with the sound of the calm water, asking the wind to blend, and threw themselves to tickle a young man.

"…H… uh…?"

Mark opened his eyes slowly as he felt his consciousness was returning to him. He stared blankly for a while until the blur image that was once dominating his frame changed into a nice plot of sand.

"Huh?"

He rubbed his eyes and was greeted by the same portrait again.

"Where am I?"

"We're on an unknown island," an unfamiliar voice rang to the teen's audio reader, "a lightning struck our ship last night and we took the evacuation boat, you should've known that. But, I think you fell asleep when we're on the boat. That explains it all… It's a really terrible storm. But, fortunately, we are safe and seems that everyone is safe too."

_Oh, garsh… Thanks so much I didn't die. That lightning damaged the ship pretty bad, if I recall. Pheww… It's truly nice to know that everyone survives._

After felt a little better because of knowing that he still had his life, Mark looked at the person who was standing in front of him.

He was an old figure—a bald man with gray and thick mustache and eyebrows. He wore a set of costume; a white uniform, which appearance was blocked by a blue overall, and a red scarf to surround its voice garage.

_A red scarf…_

_Chels… Grandma…_

"Hey, are you okay?"

Those words came and crushed the boy, giving him the ability to retrieve from his illusionary scenes.

"Oh! Yeah! I'm good!" he answered in a hurry, standing back with his two feet and started to rub his overall, which was accompanied by sand and dust.

The old man nodded and added a little joy to his look, "Good. You supposed to be. You've been off like about two days. That's enough rest for you."

"TWO DAYS?"

Mark sprang out; eyes widened, mouth opened, hands stopped, sweatdropped, cap… erm, nothing happened to his cap, actually. In short, he was in shock!

And not enjoying being speechless, he decided to ask for more details.

"Um… What day is today, if I may ask?"

Mark watched the figure in front of him. He waited for an answer unpatiently, and an exciteful smile appeared on his face when the man with the mustache started to open his words' slide.

"Well, I don't know."

And Mark fell down in a sudden.

"But—"

The old man continued and Mark quickly headed to his previous position.

"By hearing the sound of birds, feeling the breeze of air, seeing how calm the sea, and knowing that seaweed had appeared on the rock, I can tell you that it's spring. Maybe around day one or two."

"Oh… So it's around day two of spring. Thank you for explaining!" the blond boy traveled his words in a colorful throw. But, at the same time, a gloomy feeling came to his mind for a little plow.

_I wonder if Grandma and Chels worried about me. I suppose to call them by the end of the year. It's two days of delay… I hope I can find some way to reach them later. Yeah! I believe I can._

"Hey! Something got into you?" the old man asked. "You seem to be thinking about something."

"Oh, no! Nothing big! I'm fine!" Mark stated his stats in persistence.

The person who was conversing with the boy upgraded his observatory lenses in hope he could read his sadness. But, it seemed like there was no sense of sorrow in the boy that he could detect at all! So, he decided to start a formal introduction.

"Okay, then. Anyway, my name's Taro. What's yours?"

"Mark!" without sensing whether the person that gave him a question was suspicious or not, the boy answered in a knot.

The wind was now shattering, and some of them dug their graves under the salty water, while the other followed and performed a blast to prove they were stronger.

Both men were just standing without any conversation, until the older one became a bit sick cause of being beaten by the noise that came from the ocean.

"Come with me, Mark. I want to show you my family. We're not they only two here, you know," he said and walked with a little help from his wooden stick, with unique carvings at the top part of it.

Mark followed him and a woman who was standing somewhere a bit far from them gave them a wave.

* * *

.

.

.

"Th-thank you, mister."

Chelsea played a short monologue as her fingers licked a small cabbage, which, unfortunately, was pretty pale and had lost both its freshness and most of its green flesh. …_You didn't seem to be delicious at all, to be honest. Sorry, Miss Cabbage_, she thought, looking at the tiny vegetable in disappointment.

It was just another clear afternoon and Chelsea was trapped in a place that her fears would usually collaborate.

A traditional market.

Where people would always come to buy things as long they had money to trade.

Usually, at these times, she would stay in her house, sewing; which reminded her to an unfinished task of creating heart patterns on a handkerchief, giving it combination of emotions that would mostly represent affection.

And if she was not in mood to fly in her creativity, she could be found feeding the flowers with some sprinkles of water, sometimes fertilizers if the beautiful children had been very patient and tough to survive a certain period.

Oh, how she wished to be in one of those two places!

But, no… her wish did not come true.

Not a single falling star would come; they were too afraid—or maybe, had an enormous trust—of the sun. It had been the brightest star in the earth century; and it was a bit selfish if Chelsea chose to command the mighty king to throw all of its duties, only to make the Earth rotated in hurry. So, she decided to just receive the scary scene that she would never miss.

_There're just too many people here… I-I made bad deals. I believe that I have paid too much for cheap quality stuffs_, she thought disappointedly as her poor records played, sending some sour melodies.

_Oh, I'll just go home. Maybe Grandma will understand._

And so, she raised her head and asked if her foot would love to accompany her in the trip. They nodded. But, it seemed that her eyes would not corporate, wondering if they could stay a little longer.

Because, the sea colored lens were pointing at something.

Something… that sent her heart a ring.

"…What?" her words flowed when a contact was made between the image receptors and an abandoned newspaper. Chelsea grabbed the poor thing and began to ask for information.

And she trembled when she reached the head title.

'SS MAIRY – STRUCK BY LIGHTNING'.

_Oh, no… This can't be good_. The lass tried to forbid the fact to make a single crack at her chamber of tears. With less bravery, she sent her glowing eyes to stare at the news again.

And nothing changed.

Nothing but the aspects that were building on her face.

_I-it can't be… I-I… I don't know about the news, but this… SS Mairy… It's Mark's ship. Did something happen to him? Oh, no… Please, Harvest Goddess…_

Sobbing, Chelsea could not even tilt her head from its current position—a position where everything that could be seen was ground; a sign that she was feeling so sad and… alone.

No one cared to look at her; not even the falling star would come now. It seemed that her tears could not melt their loyalty to the life rules, even if someone threatened them with sharp tools.

At this moment, all that she would want to wish for was to know that her best friend was safe, or at least, someone to tell her that everything would be okay.

She could only wish… that her wishes would come true.

Oh… how she wished.

.

.

.

* * *

"WHERE'D YOU TWO RUN OFF TO?"

On a certain island, a big voice of an old man suddenly exploded; that if a boat passed by, they might think that it was the sound of a riot.

Luckily, there was no ship cared enough to struggle with the lonely waves, turning those soft blankets to shout at their ownselves.

And speaking about 'shouting', the old man had already done with his.

"Geez… Don't get so grumpy, Gramps. We're just wandering around the island for a while," said a young lady whose hair was painted in pink, with a red headband covering it. She was irritated, and it could be observed from the way she acted: somehow avoiding any kind of link.

"And we do find some abandoned buildings. Though we can't really get to the other side of the island," a boy who seemed older than the girl who talked before spoke in a patient tune. His hair color was the same as her. He stopped speaking for a while, then continued, "There's a big rock blocking the way. I wonder what lies beyond the rock."

Even though the youngsters had given him short summaries to answer his question, Taro did not seem to stop shooting his madness arrows. Instead, he gave the two another blow.

"DON'T YOU TWO HEAR WHAT I SAID EARLIER? TO STAY WITH YOUR MOTHER?"

The boy fixed his glasses' position and answered in a startled expression, "Yes, Grandpa! I-We… We're sorry about this."

The girl who was standing beside him crossed her eyebrows and decided to land a little spice into the stormy conversation bowl. "Umm… I think I don't hear anything about that," she created some careless beam to color things up, "maybe you should speak clearer next time, Gramps."

And that just made the old man's face even red.

"Father, please don't get mad at the kids," a middle-aged woman spoke in a hustle, trying to stop a potential battle.

She had to do that… Because, if she did not, no one would know when the arguments would last; although there was already a sure ending for this: getting crashed, or maybe set into ablaze.

Mark had known the woman before. Her name was Felicia; and by paying attention to the unplanned drama that was played earlier, he could already create an imagination frame.

The frame contained a hypothesis about her being Taro's daughter, and also the siblings' mother. It did explain about the similarity of their hair color. Mark wondered if Taro used to have a pink hair too, although his curiosity had to hold for a bit, because another quote was going to jump in.

And it was Felicia's.

"Father, aren't you the one who said that we have to support each other as a family? Don't let a small problem like this turn into a big one."

The old man stared blankly with his ears opened wide, and ended staring at nothing as he asked his eyelids to hide his observatory lens for a while.

"You're right. I did say that when you're still little. You're good at remembering things, Felicia."

And the statement had stuffed Mark with numerous jolts.

_A person that shouts that loud when he's mad actually said those things…?_

In the same time, Felicia turned and the blond lad caught her attention, "Oh! You look so stunned, Mark! Is it because of the fight? Oh, don't you worry. We did that a lot, umm, sometimes."

After that, she looked at her children, giving no chance for Mark to reply.

"This is Mark. Why don't you two introduce yourselves to him?"

"Oh!" the boy with the glasses shouted, eyes widened that people could catch a spark of his bright brown spectrum. "Pardon me, I must've not seen you. Heh," chuckling a bit, he stared at Mark's eyes, somehow symbolizing the reunion between the wood and the grass, "my name's Elliot. It's nice to meet you, Mark! And it's also nice to know that we're all safe from the unexpected catastrophe."

Mark felt lightened up with the warm welcome from Elliot. But, once again, an interruption came before he could reply. This time, it was from the younger lady.

"I dunno what's so important about this 'introducing me' or 'can I know you' thing. So, let's make it short. I'm Natalie."

_And that was pretty short… What a weird girl!_ Mark thought as he spoke, "Nice to meet you two."

The mother set a lovely smile on her face and united both of her palms, performing a strong bond that was sweet on tongue, "Oh! I'm really happy that we all land happily and healthy at this wonderful island!"

Did not able to pick any sparkles of sugar that her mother owned, Natalie started to talk after voicing a groan, "Yeah. On a wonderful 'deserted' island, and there's only five of us. It'll take only a while to make the word 'not' appears in front of those 'happily' and 'wonderful' words, or whatever you say, Mom."

"Natalie! What're you talking about? There's no time to say such things," Taro said in a strong notation, though was beaten by his loudest quote when he first found out that his grandchildren were wandering off.

With the same smile, Felicia added, "Yes, it is true what your grandfather says. It's not the time to be pessimistic. Otherwise, you two say that there are some abandoned buildings, right? We can surely turn one of them into a wonderful house for us, can't we?"

"Umm, I guess you're right, Mom. It's better that we have each other than being alone in this island, though it still seems impossible," Natalie said, seemed to spot a little piece of hope.

Taro nodded, proud of the way he brought his daughter up. He glanced to the sky and saw that the sun was putting on a smile. But, unlike his daughter's, it represented a mysterious yet scary grin. So, without further ado, he smashed the sand with his stick twice and announced, "Right. It's no use to stay here and letting the sun sweeps our stamina. We better go now. Elliot, show us the way."

"Yes, Grandpa! It's just straight here!"

And there they went; leaving the soft field that had always loved to stick its body to the foot of people who passed by. And with a little fight, finally the group could give the sparkling land a farewell, as they teleported to a harder soil.

* * *

Step by step, the group was getting closer to the end of their walk, hoping that they could rest their tired foots, which had been a great support to the journey.

And along the walk, the blue cap owner could hear a lot of things.

There were footsteps; which sometimes sounded clear and absolutely freed of stress, while sometimes soft as if they were avoiding grenades.

The youngsters were leading the path, though Natalie seemed to take one step further from the pink haired lad.

The younger sister, walking with her eyes running around, was whispering some complaints about the unsupportive nature. It was quite hard a test for the teenager who was more mature. Rather than hearing those unhelping criticisms, he chose to greet his brain to activate his observatory system—the one that he loved to use to get out from a certain situation; a situation when he could not hear any familiar rhythm.

Taro and Felicia decided to just tag along, while Mark thought about doing the same thing Elliot had done—sensing all spots that were hidden somewhere around the area, and cloned them into his shelter of idea.

And the changes from a wetter zone to a drier one completely amused him!

From a whiter field to a darker one, where wall of rocks divided them into different stunts… He could feel the gray-brownish fellows were keeping their gun; because they knew that all of the strangers had already gone, for now.

In that point, Mark wondered what caused the ground to form into different kind of soils—soft and hard, fertile or not.

Ah… he supposed to study about it in the city just now!

If only the accident did not wipe his plan to sail there, he would not leave his trace on an island that people would hardly know where!

But, it seemed that the smart teen could deal with it.

There was nothing wrong about the road he had to walk on right now. Otherwise, the whole island itself was a great place to learn!

"Oh, this house looks so nice!"

A sudden sentence burst from Felicia's lips and had shaken Mark's connection with the surroundings away. And not knowing the effect that it had given, it just kept on marching and reuniting without delay.

"It looks quite well than the others! There're only some parts of its wall that crumble, oh, and some missing roofs. I think it won't take long to fix this place if we work together!"

The person who wore a red headband stared at the undrowned wrecks. After satisfied by the clues that she had received, she was ready to sprinkle another poisonous feed, "Geez… Seems hopeless to me."

"Nonsense!"

Taro chirped out his one-word opinion. He then pointed his wood-made tool to a box, while saying, "Stop talking like that, Natalie! Look at this! Felicia, do you know what is this?"

Felicia analyzed the object for a while and smiled. It seemed that even though her hair was dressed in a very difficult pattern, it did not effect how fast information could travel into her brain. "It's a shipment box," she announced excitingly, "it's the one that we use to ship products! You have some of these in your ranch back then, Father!"

"Oh! We do see a big though messy ranch at the northern part of the island when we're wandering around! Maybe it has something to do with the ranch," Elliot added.

"Good, then," the bald man nodded his head a few times, seemed satisfied. "You three do the fixing, me and Mark will go check the ranch. Let's go!"

At the moment, Mark could do nothing but to follow the eldest's instruction and questioning one thing in his mind.

_Why me?_

* * *

The place that they were going to see was actually not too far from the building that Taro's family had decided to live in. And by knowing the fact, it was pretty sure that everybody could predict the time loss of walking in such distance; which was not too big.

In fact, now, both of the survivors had arrived at an unfamiliar fertile land—the one that they had already known as a ranch.

"WOOOW!"

At the moment, Mark was completely shocked that he jumped.

The ranch was pretty huge—huger than what the teen had projected in his mind. It consisted beautiful green lively mattress, wrapped with morning dews that hugged them as if they had not met in ages. There were also some old buildings that he could hardly tell what, though the one at his right might be a potential hut.

The field?

Oh, it was a nice place to hang out for weeds! And it seemed that the wild grasses were accompanied by a big number of branches, stumps, stones, and hard rocks. There must be a definite reason of why all of these happened, and Mark had had a guess, despite some pictures that did not leave any clue to solve the case.

"Hmm… I can see your love for the nature already, Mark," the old man uttered, stealing a ton of oxygen to fill his air depositment, and swapped them easily with carbon dioxide as if it was relevant.

"Oh. Yeah, I do love nature. But that's not really the one I'm in shock with," Mark corrected the old figure's sentence, "but, it's the fact that our clothes look alike! I can't believe it!"

Taro almost vomited as the statement barged to his voice receptors. But, his mysterious toughness succeeded and made his expression stayed the major; the one that represented flat but soulful kind of teacher.

"Oh, I thought you'd recognized it from the first time you saw me," the older man said, "but, that's why I asked you to come with me to check the ranch."

"That is the reason? What? The clothes? Why is our clothes' similarity the reason?" Mark asked in excitement.

His question donated the person who was going to answer a tiny bit of confusion, "What? What're you talking about? Your clothes are absolute trademarks for a rancher! Aren't you one?"

The blue cap owner was stunned. Wide eyed, he muttered random kind of rants, "I-I… Umm… rancher? You mean, you-I-umm… I have to run this ranch because I look like a rancher? Garsh! I never ranch before! I'm just a student that thought about continuing my study at a big city, though this island seems can support me with knowledge already. Weird introduction, whatever… But… a rancher? Nah. These clothes are just one big package of gift from my friend's grandmother for my birthday, I think. Yeah, it should be—or not? But, I can't sew and, hmm, hmm…"

And he just kept on talking, mostly to himself.

At first, Taro was listening at him carefully. But, hardening gesture, which had been stuck on him right now, could be translated into 'the old man found the teen's quote quite—or very—disturbing, if not annoying'.

"Alright, Mark!"

And everything became silent.

Some people might be frustrated when they spoke at nothing; when they were defeated by creation of giggles, which could not stop shouting. And, it was a great motive, that must be remembered if a certain criminal act made Taro, the loud man, lost its voice's impact.

But now, he was still free to give other's speech a break; whether they would complain or just sadly accept.

"I think, even though you have never run a ranch before, you can handle this one. You should. I do believe so, Mark."

Mark quickly hugged the old figure. "Oh, thank you so much! I know you'll understand that I'm not going to be able to run the ranch. Thank you so much for saying such nice things that… I… should…

—RUN A RANCH?"

And the lad—who seemed to miss some points from the old man's quote, though realized the error a few seconds after it drowned—was hit by metaphorical lightning, again. He removed his tight hug, which oddly did not crush Taro, then glanced in a way that people would do when they were not in their comfort zone.

"Right. I think you're the only one who's able to do this. Felicia's not really powerful on her current age though she has the skill. And my grandkids… oh, Elliot can be helpful but it seems that he's better at calculating things and work with details, may take long for a ranch to run. Natalie will probably complain every time she works. So, that leaves you, Mark," Taro explained with a very controlled breath, not losing a single point from his explanation plate.

Mark mumbled for a while, then spoke, "What about you? I heard Felicia saying something about your ranch. Why don't you be the one who work at the ranch?"

"NONSENSE! WHAT DO YOU WISH? SEEING MY SHAKING BONES MELT?"

_Actually, I never see a bone melts before. That may be interesting_, Mark thought secretly, afraid to turn the thoughts into melodies so everyone could sing them. And that was a good idea, because, at least, that kept him safe from the amazingly hurtful knock of Taro's legendary stick.

So, he decided to just speak normally, thinking a while before he started, "Umm… Okay, I think I'll try. Otherwise, there's a lot of knowledge I can get by ranching, right? I think I'm in, but only if you agree to take me under your wing."

"Of course, you dummy! How will you start without me telling you the basics?" was the ex-rancher reply when his eyes were shut as if they would not open or blink.

He turned quiet for a few seconds; deep in thoughts until another dialogue landed, "So, since you've decided to be a rancher, it'll be good if my family helps you sell the products you ship. And… you have to name the ranch. You're the owner now, Mark! So, what will it be?"

Mark put some 'umm's into his communicational lyrics, while his index finger punched his chin even though the poor victim did not give any mood to do some fighting. Found no inspirations, Mark walked to a signboard that was located near the building that he had figured out as a house.

Looking at it for a little while, Mark's lips started to move, transferring the information to the people who could not read the sign, "The words on the sign are fade. But, I think they're 'Greenwood Ranch – Sunny Island'. Sounds like a nice name. I'll use that! I'll be really happy if this ranch can relive without having a new identity. Hehehe."

"Good thinking, Mark," Taro was impressed, he could not hide the tiny smile on his face, "and good job on discovering the island's name. It's important for the publicity when your products are in."

After his dialogue played in, it was certain that there was a little line that would divide it with the next stacks of paragraphs.

And the little line… would be Mark's action: jumping happily, sometimes shouting 'really?', stopping for a while though he was still whispering in an excitement that he could not set free, and in the end, he pulled his red scarf and the air suddenly turned windy.

Because the lad could feel, that the right choices for his life somehow belonged here.

It was the fortune cookie that he always wanted to collect, but suffered a dilemma of opening it or not. Somehow, he knew that by opening it, the frequency of his passion would change, whether in a low level or became a part of the space traveler boat.

But, to think about it, it should be a good one—being a rancher and supported by a great teacher. What a great life he could have! It was a dream that Mark had never dreamed before!

A fantasy… where people could forget their problems in the real world.

But, in Mark's case, it was not a fantasy—it was real.

Had been swimming in his imagination, Mark could be one of the happiest statue alive. His new teacher, who did not understand the situation, was completely in a great boredom. He really wanted to make silence burned from existence, and yes, he was about to do it… now.

"Mark," Taro started speaking, his voice sent the boy in front of him a strong sting, "I think it's time for me to go. You should check the house. After you're done, why don't you help us fixing our house? Then, maybe, we can help on fixing yours."

"Umm, okay," the new rancher replied as his new teacher walked away from the ranch.

Some moments after, he decided to run from the wind that was beginning to blow strongly; to go inside the house with a red roof.

He opened the door and his eyes were pointing at the upper corner, where sat people's favorite rectangle. Quickly, he approached the bed after closing the door; and like what he did in his room in the ship, he rested his bag, but now on the floor. Forgetting what Taro had told him to do, he laid his body upon the levitating mattress and fell into sleep, right on the time when he presented his first snore.

And it was all.

It had been a tiring and shocking day for him, and there was so much to worry about because of his newly received job.

What would he do to the ranch? Blew it or relive it? How could he relive the ranch? Oh, so many things to worry about!

But now, he could not care even a bit. Because, what he needed was a long and refreshing sleep. And in his dream, came a little thought that struck and lost beyond the wind.

_May tomorrow be a great day for all!_

.

.

.

* * *

_Finish lines to cross._

_Where? __Nobody knows, but you will never get lost._

_Finish lines to race._

_Lay. __Cause if you rush, you may not surpass._

_Take your step… __You have a finish line to create._

_Unlimited lap._

_So, close your eyes and fasten your seat belt __as we travel while the crowds shout in delicate;_

_which may be caught in photographs that will_

…_remain in your chest._

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Thank you so much for the read and comments and appreciation, everyone! ,,^_^,, I'm so happy I can update once again.

Maaan, I never write this long before. -_- This fic contains the biggest number of words in a chapter amongst all of my other fictions. Woow... I hope that I have done my best. And I think I fail on humor and had put a lot of cheesy jokes there. Though I really love the joke about 'Taro's legendary stick'. It's not mine. ^_^ It's all started from a random conversation in a forum, and the joke belongs to whether _salt_ (Shane L. Prochainezo) or _grin_ (Green-Chrystall). Heh. Thumbs up for extra disclaimer! -slapped-

Umm, thank you so much for reading this bad, full of flaws, and boring story… Huff, it's all because of my poor writing skill… I hope I can keep on updating and becoming better! Wait for the next 'step'! ^_^ Thanks, all!


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